The interview that wasn't

Last night I surprised myself by finishing up all 52 pages of my final papers, an entire day early.

Proudly bearing two manila envelopes stuffed with my homework, I gathered up the baby (as Mike unexpectedly was summoned to work) and drove to the university to tie up loose ends. We dropped off my envelopes in my professor's box, walked over to the student employment office to bargain with them over my eligibility to work for the library, and headed over for my informal second interview. On the way, Gavin and I hid behind a big surfer from a crazy man screaming at an invisible enemy ("She's FUCKING hot, I'm gonna FUCK YOU UP man, WHAT?? You fucker!"), and stopped for a Thai tapioca at the campus Bale cafe before arriving at the library and discovering my interviewer had called in sick. I left my contact information and headed back to the car. As we passed under the shade of a banyan tree, someone said, "Beautiful child you have there." I looked up, surprised, to see one of our resident homeless men smiling at me.
"You're doing the most important job in the world, you know, raising a beautiful healthy child."
"Thank you," I said.
"No, thank you," he said, saluting me. Made my day.

Pre-Holiday Joy

Gavin outdoes himself
A fever and a runny nose - not worth an emergency trip to the doctor, right? All the same, we took him to the doctor's office yesterday after hearing that my cousin has an ear infection, and the poor kid has a sore throat, two ear infections, and pink eye. Oh no. I don't know how he did it, but now all three of us adults are rubbing our eyes, a bit paranoid. The bright side is that we now have two kinds of antibiotics, and he will be feeling better for his birthday.

The End of the Year Letter
The mamas on my board have inspired me to write a hypothetical holiday letter, like the kind that gets xeroxed and inserted into Christmas cards from family members you don't really talk to. This is the letter that would be, if I had any interest in further alienating my in-laws.

2004 was an eventful year. It began with the good news that, after 7 years, Mike's family decided it was time they got to know me better. It has only been 11 months since that announcement, and I am sure the first questions about my interests are going to arrive at any time. 

After our desperate retreat from New York, we all got busy. My mother and I completed all the tests and paperwork to please the Human Resource Gods and get into grad school, Mike found himself the captain of a sinking ship in Aikahi, and Gavin began to snowball his vocabulary from "uh oh!" to "Mama, sit and kiss kitty!" Two shiny cars joined our family, and two old cars were dumped on whoever would take them. Our two aging cats gave up the fight and allowed two scabby strays to visit us. We have named them "Headlights" and "Sylvester". Headlights has recently earned the nickname "Tailpipes", because he farts a lot, and most of Sylvester's fur has grown back. Xebo, on the other hand, has started to bald, but he vomits less these days, or at the least neatly covers his mess with shoes, socks, etc. Hurcules has discovered that he can carefully use his claws to peel open our sleeping eyelids. Great.

Following a sad incident with some red plastic playground equipment, I have lost 15% of my body mass and posted an embarrassing number of progress pictures on the internet. Halfway through the semester, I realized that I was truly meant to be a librarian, just in time for a flood to tear through the library and destroy our school. Luckily, though, classes went on, and we successfully completed our courses, including another bronze class. 

Yes, it has been quite a year. Mike discovered the level of staff incompetency it takes to run a theater. Gavin learned how to run and climb, as well becoming the first baby I've met who can draw a heart, star, circle, square, and parallel lines before the age of 2. I haven't met many babies, but it seems good to me. My mother had a date, told off a potential admirer, was granted leave of absence for next year to pursue her degree full-time, and bought a VW beetle. As for me, I had an emotional year, being accepted into school, rediscovering my bony landmarks, thinking more about old friends, and finding myself suddenly employed.

What comes this next year? Mike is flying out to attend his brother's wedding (in my conspicuous absence). The adventures of my new job will unfold, with new friends and Tales from the Moldy Stacks. Gavin will be talking more and learning numbers and letters. And we will find ourselves pulling the mortgage and bills while my mother takes her sabbatical in the fall and tackles a full load of classes for the first time in 20 years. 

 
And so, friends and family, I hope your years were happy as well. Thanks to my paternal grandparents, who have been in touch ever since the arrival of their great-grandson, and who have shown pictures of Gavin to my father. I still hold hope that he might write to us some day. Thanks to my mother-in-law for the homemade pickles, which almost make me forgive what happened last Christmas. Salvo, I'm proud of you. Peter, well, you know how it is. Brooke, I love talking to you. Rose, I wish I knew where you are. My RMC mamas, you rock. Take care, everyone, don't forget to write.


-Holly

The Employed Librarian

It has happened - I got a job. Yes, the kind of job that requires work. Tonight, as I left my last class of the semester, my friend who works at the Library from Hell dragged me into her boss's office and landed me a job as a part-time library assistant. This means two things: I will graduate with a year and a half of library experience under my belt; and I can buy my own SuperGirl underwear without consulting Mike. It also means I will have fewer evenings and weekends with Gavin, but I remember my own mother working and taking classes when I was little, and it didn't damage me any. I think.

Sick again

Last night, as I wrapped up my homework, I realized Gavin was crying upstairs. I ran to find his little body burning with fever, his nose completely stuffed up. I carried him downstairs, wiping his tears and nose, and cuddled up by the light of the Christmas tree in front of a cozy movie with him until he had calmed down enough to breathe effectively. Several hours later, in bed, he panicked again, unable to breathe. Mike had climbed into bed only moments earlier, home from work late. We dosed the boy with cold medicine and I rocked him to sleep, running my fingers through his hair and feeling his hand stroke softly at my arm as his eyes dropped closed. I remember the feeling of relief and safety, sick in my mother's arms as a child, and it's a warm feeling to know I can give the same to Gavin.

My mother, piggybacking on my diet in the same way she piggybacked on my pregnancy weight gain, has lost 30 lbs and (coincidentally?) finds herself this morning on a brunch date with a fellow she's quietly had a crush on for years. A fellow with a motorcycle, direct gaze, and reckless sense of humor. I hope she has better luck with him.

Day 4...

... and still sick. Gavin feels that my prone position on the couch is invitation to use my stomach for a trampoline. In my haggard, croaking state, I have put off all homework in favor of some trashy novel reading. Some books strike chords in you. The Color Purple struck so many that I was humming for two years. This book only made one of my chords twang briefly - with this sentence near the end:

"Even when I'm on my guard, being watchful, he can piss me off, turn me on, make me question my judgement, and, in general, provoke inconvenient emotions."
 

Yep.

At any rate, I still must put my runny nose to the computer screen and finish my cataloging homework before class tomorrow.

The night before last, I barked directions from the couch while Mike and my mother decorated the tree. Gavin took the role of Official Ornament Distributor, selecting ornaments from the boxes and deciding who got to hang what, and doing a surprisingly good job. Yesterday, despite my spinning head, I spent the better part of the day shopping with my mom and eating Chinese food. I had a skirt to buy for my interview this week, as all my other skirts fall to the floor when I button them up. My mom and Mike cheered when I put on my outfit, "You look sexy!" Not what I was going for with an interview as a reference librarian. I stripped off the shirt and rummaged through the closet for something more conservative. All the same, it was nice to hear. Now I am doped up on DayQuil and enjoying the scent of our new pine wreathe, daydreaming a bit and letting Gavin slide down the stairs on the lid to the hamper. Despite the weakness in my chest and pounding in my head, I am pretty happy. I love Christmas.

The first cold of the season

On Wednesday evening, we all climbed into the Bug and drove to dancing. Gavin and I walked down to the health food store to look for Christmas tea, and left with a complimentary vegan brownie because the baker had taken pity on Gavin, who was plastered against the pastry display. Mike spent the rest of the evening wrestling with the chocolate-smeared child while I got in a few dances. Gavin learned how to roll his socks in a ball and lob them at people. Fun was had by all.

In the morning, I was sick and wheezing. And with two classes in the evening ahead of me. I rented a movie and crashed on the couch as much as I could with an active toddler, but when the time came, I got my homework together and headed off to learn about reference and to patina my bronze sculpture. That night, shaking with exhaustion, I just couldn't sleep, and layed in bed and waited for dawn. My throat swelled up and my chest deflated. Alone with Gavin again, I sat down this morning to type up a cover letter and tweak my resume for an internship position at the university - and I've run out of paper and ink. I will have to drag my pathetic self to the mall and spend too much money on another cartridge and nice paper. I think I will bring the Mega Stroller to restrain the boy, because if I have to dig him out of any clothes racks today, my head will explode.

If I land this (paid) internship, I will jump for joy. Besides the valuable job experience, I would have spending money! I could pay for all our groceries myself, without relying on Mike for everything. I could buy my own dress this opera season without worrying about hitting Mike's pocket. Trying not to hope too much, I have bad luck with these things, but fingers crossed.

Will wonders never cease

Gavin slept in an hour, and I lost a pound over Thanksgiving. Huh.

Mike got me a CD for my birthday, which I've been playing to death.

The better part of three days have been spent walking through the mall, watching the fish in the koi ponds and watching the people push past each other similarly. My mother and I drank chai in the book store, where I sulked a bit because they didn't have a present I wanted to buy. We learned the next morning that a package I had ordered for Gavin arrived at my in-laws' house in New York. Darn it. While they worked to correct the problem, my grandfather called to say he might visit this Christmas. After fighting cancer for almost two years, it's about time he did a victory dance with us. Also on the phone this weekend was my mother-in-law, who mentioned that my brother-in-law will be getting married next October. I wondered if I could schedule another root canal during that week, but I suppose I don't need to make any excuses at all. I'm in grad school, and I'm simply not going to skip class and blow $1000 to surround myself and my son with hostility and see someone I'm still mad at get married. Mike can go by himself, and Lorenz can do a happy dance and drag him out to get drunk without me there to mess things up. Besides, I think it's healthy to get away from your significant other at least once a year, for mental health purposes. Mike would do good to breath a little New York air in October and spend a few nights with his friends and family without having to worry about whether I'm enjoying myself.

...Yes, all those things. But mostly what I am thinking about today is this: this weekend I bought a pair of pants that were two more sizes down.

consumerism

Last night we went with my aunt to the dreaded Walmart to hunt for a Little People Enchanted Castle play set for Chris. I bypassed my boycott by thinking that I needn't actually buy anything there. Unfortunately, there were a lot of inexpensive toddler toys just right for Gavin, and I broke down and spent $40 on a wooden train set, pack of Play Doh, set of plastic pots and pans, and box of die cast cars. And a sparkling tacky tinsel light-up tree topper for our new (fake) tree. Oh, well. I will do better in the future. Embarrassing.

I curled up in bed with Gavin and fell asleep with happy dreams. I dreamed that I saw an old friend again after these many years, and I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his lips, just happy to see him again. Maybe some day I really will.

In the morning, we stared hatefully out the window at the noisy neighbor children, then hopped into my mother's new VW Beetle and zoomed over to Costco to join the pre-Thanksgiving crowd. Gavin wanted every free sample, particularly enjoying the slices of honey-glazed ham. After sitting down to share a frozen yogurt, I was unhappy to hear my mother say she wanted to return to Walmart for a set of seat covers for her car. Fortunately, I left the ATM card at home with Mike, so all I could do was look at the toddler pajama sets and potty seats. Walmart will not get the better of me, despite the allure of cheap crap.

Returning home, I saw that Mike had already left to attend the RSCDS board meeting. I sighed, knowing our afternoon date to see Bridget Jones wasn't going to happen. The poor guy is getting burnt out. We need to see each other soon.

Tis the season...

My christmas cards are ready to go, the season is gearing up. Next friday I turn 25. It's a season of change, and I'm ready for it.

Here I am looking squinky-eyed and unimpressed:
 

Gavin with the guitar:
 

Gavin examines leaves in the back yard:

From the pages of my class notebook

Last night...
Nov 11 2004
Winter is here with grey skies and chilly winds. I stood at the coffee dispenser, cramming a wrinkled dollar into the rusty machine and cussing mentally each time it spat the bill out again. Victory was mine, and I punched the hot chocolate button. The winds blew rain into my cup as I hummed  and trudged across the leaf-strewn courtyard to the ancient elevator. As the doors rumbled shut, I sipped my paper cup of cocoa and eyeballed the rear doors of the elevator, wondering what secret parts of the chemistry department they lead to. I stepped out into the 1950s as I reached the third floor. The corridor was dark, a single unlit bulb suspended from the ceiling. An open classroom cast light from the windows onto the concrete floor, and I peeked in at the old furniture. I imagined a chemist with a crew cut and horn-rimmed glasses lecturing a class of bored students in tight sweaters.

This cocoa is too thick. It is like chocolate mucous.

Last Tuesday Morning...
Sick sick sick. I have successfully arrived at school without vomiting or passing out on the Pali. Gavin, still sick, cried intermittently from 10pm to 4am. Aside from one or two near-hysterical remarks from me while half asleep, I managed to rock my poor boy in my arms and snuggle next to him as he watched a midnight showing of Lady and the Tramp. Adrenaline hit me as I leapt out of bed at 6:22am to get ready for class, late. That, combined with hunger, must have sent me into a sort of low-blood sugar shock, and I sat down on the toilet, trembling and working up the nerve to make a run for the fridge (our downstairs bathroom is close to the kitchen). Fighting off stars, I chugged three or four gulps of milk from the carton and sat down again for a moment before making a go for the Gatorade. The nausea faded enough for me to trudge upstairs to get dressed. Suspicious, I took my temperature, which should have dropped to 97.4. 98.5. I peed on a stick I had handy, which went reassuringly blank. Now I am at school, cold and sleepy. I need a nap.
 

Even though I am exhausted and sick, my teacher commented in front of the class how pretty I looked. I should stay up all night more often.

 
Last Monday evening...
Once again alone in the chemistry hall. I've had childhood nightmares about these long corridors. On the doors at the end I see a sign depicting a flailing, horizontal man screaming. Is he slipping? Falling? I am going to assume that on the other side of the door is no floor.